


Don't waste the meat.

by Jelly_o



Category: Blood and Chocolate (2007), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV), Polar (2019)
Genre: 2AM - Freeform, Cannibalism, DoneWithThisShit!Author, DoneWithThisShit!Duncan, Doppelganger, F/M, Fucked Up, Gay, Heterosexuality, I don't want this to be porn, I have a cold, Just a fanfic with a crackish plot, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, No Smut, Other, Platonic Relationships, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Swearing, Wendigo!Hannibal - Freeform, Wendigo!Will, and this fic has been in my head since the hell that was my dissertation writing, because wasting food is worse than killing (when the intended process of killing is to make food), dry/dark humour, duh - Freeform, fun shit, hopefully not., humans are meat, i don't know how to tag, irregular chapter release, methinks, mutual tolerance, okay lots of crack, okay?, only explicit content in this will be gore shit, slight crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 06:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19351528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jelly_o/pseuds/Jelly_o
Summary: Duncan cannot seem to be able to retire in peace, and new doppelgangers seem to be popping up around every corner. For some reason, he grows used to them tagging along and bringing more complications into his life. Somehow.More characters will arrive, I do have a plot idea, but it mainly is from a stupid crack idea I got. Will try to update this at some point. Maybe. Hopefully? I want to see where this goes. There will probably be some side stories as well, when I get around to it. I already have ideas.





	Don't waste the meat.

It was cold, below freezing, in fact, as the creature stalked its way through the woods in Fuck-Knows-Where, Montana. It didn’t really count itself as lucky, though. It didn’t think itself as anything, much less think at all. It only felt a primal need to make sure no food was wasted. The smell of blood had awakened it, and it was starving.  
Well.  
It was always starving, but since its logical side had decided to stay low when in human form, the hunger was all-consuming, and the tight control exerted by its vaguely human side had slipped at the first faint coppery scent it caught in the air.  
And now, it was back and ready to feast, at last.  
A deep and ominous thrumming sound would have been nice to paint this picture, even the weak heartbeat of a hidden bird, or the rustle of snow crumbling from ageless pine tree needles under the weight of the wind, but there was none of that. Not a sound dared to even exist. Not when Death was stalking these woods, ready to absorb any life force it encountered in a bath of bloody glory.  
When it finally came across edible matter, it had been laid out for him like a banquet fit for a king. Ish. A poorly cooked, acidic, bullet ridden, slightly-cold-from-the-snow-by-now, banquet. But it was more than it had had the opportunity to eat in too long, so the creature was not picky. Unlike its stupid human-ish side.  
One body here, another there, and a third and a fourth located in a cabin on the other side of the lake where it had found the first two. Realising there wouldn’t be any more for tonight, but that whoever lived here probably would come back, along with the opportunity for more offerings that wouldn’t betray his human side’s decision to lay low and survive, it laid down on the bed for some rest, allowing its twisted body to shift back under Hannibal’s control.  
And that’s how Duncan found him.  
To say Duncan was surprised at finding his naked doppelganger, covered in blood and grime, in his own bed would be like saying that there is at least one grain of sand in the Sahara: one hell of a bloody understatement. But he recovered quickly, as he got caught up in the mystery of where the bodies he had left behind were, now. There was, of course, the possibility that the spitting image of Duncan, softly snoring away in Duncan’s bed as it was, had gotten rid of them somehow, but Duncan wasn’t really sure he actually wanted to know any more than he had to. This situation was too weird for him right now, and all he wanted to do was to wait for his birthday and lead a normal life.  
A normal life meaning here “a life which does not include finding one’s possible long lost twin in your bed in the middle of Butt-Fuck, Nowhereville, covered in bits and blood and pieces of the four assassins you killed in total self-defence and definitely without an ounce of a slightly sadistic streak the night before.”  
Right.  
First, Duncan guessed, breakfast. Hopefully the smell would wake the man up so he didn’t have to.

**Author's Note:**

> Boom, first chapter. Hope you liked it. I am a sucker for kudos. (More or less literally. Depends if you want me to go down on you *wink wink wink*. Consent is sexy af.)  
> Right. Okay. Leave some comments as well. I'm exploring with my writing style in English, so pointers would be appreciated. Cheers, have a good collectively-aknowledged-but-nonetheless-imaginary slice of time! (however long that may be.)


End file.
